We're Not all Blind

This isn't actually a second chapter, it's just another scene that I thought was kind of in the same vein as Four Faces, so I thought I'd just put them together. In case you don't figure it out, it's happening at the very end of the press conference where Harvey Dent admits to being Batman. Which is a lie. 'Cause I am Batman. I carry things on my belt. 'Cause I'm Batman. So there.

Disclaimer: Funnily enough, I'm not Gary Oldman any more. I'm just Gary the Old Man. Except my name isn't Gary. And I'm not an old man.

P.S: In order to appease the great and jerkish-ahem-I mean powerful Mr. You-Know-You-Who-You-Are, there may be one more chapter that is basically a lot of nonsense meant mostly for him, but also may entertain you, so feel free to read it. Here's the story.

"So be it," said the District Attorney with a defeated sigh. He turned and nodded to the police officers standing nearest the microphone-covered podium. "Take the Batman into the custody."

Louis Crest saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Two feet away, Bruce Wayne had taken a step away from the cream marble wall against which he'd been leaning. Why was he leaving just as the identity of the city's most wanted mystery man was revealed? Crest himself had been particularly fascinated by the vigilante. He'd grown up reading the Superman comics, and had always found it impossible to believe that Lois Lane didn't recognize Clark Kent without his glasses, and respected the Batman for the sheer reason that he actually kept his identity secret. It also galled him. Crest had climbed the ladder of success quickly and brutally, his trump card being his ruthless investigative abilities. He'd always secretly dreamed of investigating the Batman, of following him one night and seeing him take off his mask, being the soul witness to the face that hid beneath, having that power over Caped Crusader.

Crest couldn't understand why Wayne was leaving when the city's greatest secret was about to be told. And then he realized that Wayne wasn't moving towards the door. He was moving towards the podium. To turn himself him in.

Crest's gasp of realization was drowned out by the sudden cacophony of alarmed shouts. His pen was still held suspended over his notepad, eyes fixed on Wayne's look of masterfully veiled surprise and confusion, and realized that he had not heard Dents last words, but saw that two officers were now locking his wrists in handcuffs. He looked back at Wayne, who had dropped his eyes to the floor and stepped back against the wall. There was no doubt in Crest's mind that Wayne was the batman. Why was he just standing there? How could he let Dent take the blame? Was the man who had risked his life dozens if not hundreds of times for the good of the city really that much of a selfish coward?

Crest followed Wayne after the conference, leaving his photographer Stacy alone by their van without so much as a word of explanation. This story would need tact. He couldn't frighten Wayne with overzealous, prying questions. He had to be positive, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Wayne was walking briskly towards a sleek grey Lamborghini. Crest felt a stab of petty jealousy and quashed it, quickening his pace. Wayne was almost at his car.

Desperately, Crest cried out, "Mr. Wayne!" and sprinted forward. To his disbelieving relief, Wayne stopped and turned around, with a look Crest generally associated with a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He was tense and seemed preoccupied, for it took his eyes several moments to focus on Crest, who reached him panting slightly.

"Mr. Wayne, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

Wayne looked impatiently at his watch, but his expression of affected boredom did not quite conceal still present shock and (was Crest imagining it?) panic. "I'm very busy," he said.

"I'll be quick," Crest promised. "Do you believe that Harvey Dent is the Batman?"

Wayne's jaw tightened. Crest knew he'd hit a nerve. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"He just confessed on live TV."

"Then I guess it must be him." Wayne opened his car door. "Good bye."

"Mr. Wayne!" Crest clamped his mouth shut as he realized he'd almost screamed. But it got Wayne's attention. He stopped, one hand resting on the edge of the Lambo's window. "I understand subtlety."

"You're a reporter," said Wayne, and his meaning was clear.

"You were going to turn yourself in," Crest lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, so that it was all but lost in the whoosh of traffic. "You were going to give yourself up, just now, because Harvey Dent isn't Batman. You are."

Crest felt his imminent victory build like a warm bubble inside his chest. The weight of his voice recorder hefted comfortingly in his pocket. He was so close.

But instead of further panicking, Wayne flashed him a genuine, winning smile and said, "I'm sorry I wasn't of further use, sir. Have a nice day." He pulled the car door closed (when had he sat down?) and the Lamborghini turned away from the curb and shot away.

I realize it wasn't all that exciting. I may end up continuing with Crest. He's growing on me. Have a nice day. All reviews appersheated.

-esking